


Flash! The Return of Deka-Melon! OR: What's More Classic then Detectives Talking Over Whiskey?

by friendlytroll



Series: A Drink With Zenigata [1]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Drinking, F/F, Femslash, Heart-to-Heart, M/M, Male Slash, Multi, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Smoking, blue jacket era (ish), gay disaster cops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlytroll/pseuds/friendlytroll
Summary: While Detective Melon may not have stuck to the Lupin Case, she stayed in contact with Inspector Zenigata, meeting whenever they both happen to be in Paris for a drink. However, she's remained determinedly on the trail of the woman who ruined her chance for revenge in the name of her Grandfather. What did Fujiko steal this time, anyhow...?However, Zenigata knows better then anyone- nobody should live out his mistakes. And he's willing to open up more then he might ever have normally, if it's enough to help convince her. Including just when, exactly, did he have this same kind of realization about *his* theives....?





	Flash! The Return of Deka-Melon! OR: What's More Classic then Detectives Talking Over Whiskey?

**Author's Note:**

> While the episode she's in, "Lady Detective Melon" (Season 2, Ep 28), doesn't do her enough justice for my taste, Detective Melon quickly became one of my all time favorite one-off characters in Lupin III. After seeing someone suggest what a good partner she'd make for Zenigata in the new series, I couldn't help but want to see them as friends...
> 
> ...and well, since she winds up interacting with Fujiko in her episode. Obviously my hands are tied. If I get into a fandom without rustling up some completely obscure ship, then I'm not being myself. 
> 
> And it's nice to read friends having a conversation sometimes. 
> 
> I recommend putting on the song 新宿区 JAZZ POINT J while reading for atmosphere, the song I wrote a solid chunk of this to at about 2AM.

 Bars in the rain were a cliche, of course. The kind of thing someone serious minded might have felt embarrassed about. But there was something about Inspector Zenigata that made the setting feel appropriate; maybe it was his age, or maybe it was that he didn’t _try_ to be a ‘classic detective’. He just was. Seat him at a bar that had been built a hundred years ago, put a glass of whisky in his hand, and it was picture perfect.  
  
The click of the camera was what tipped Zenigata off, glancing up in time to see Detective Melon shaking out the resulting polaroid film with an air of satisfaction.  
  
Probably. Truth be told he had trouble reading any expression. And the glasses didn’t help.  
  
“Bonsoir, uncle.” she slipped onto the stool next to him- perking up a little as the Inspector slid a glass over to her; a champaign flute, it’s sparkling contents lit with a glowing golden tone, topped with lemon peel.  
  
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” he grumbled, without meaning it in the slightest. It had all the force of an old hound grumbling with a wagging tail.  
  
“Mmhm. Do you actually _know_ any cocktails invented before 1967…?” she pushed her hat back and took a slow sip, feeling the scent of juniper and lemon through the effervescent sparkles. The first time she’d managed to corner him at his drinking spot, he’d been entertainingly  _aghast_ that she didn’t much care what it was she drank. Somehow this tradition of him ordering a drink for her before she showed up had developed. She had to begrudgingly admit; his knowledge seemed to be quite deep on the subject… and they never actually DID discuss when they were going to meet up next. 

And he rarely ordered the same thing for her twice; but he seemed to be making a point to avoid anything with actual melon in it.   
  
“Brat. A French 75 suits you! Besides, champaign is traditional for a celebration.” he offered up his glass for a toast with a grin… and after a moment, sighed, propped his chin on one hand, and closed the distance himself, gently tapping his whiskey against the delicate flute where it stat on the bar. Detective Melon was sitting with her shoulders hunched, frustration threatening to fill the bar like smoke from a smoldering flame. 

“Hmph…. what a nostalgic atmosphere…” Zenigata muttered, almost inaudibly, into his whisky.  
  
She slipped something out of her pocket, setting it down on the bar between them. A tube of lipstick- upscale. An unassuming black with a single line of soft gold… but suspicion rang like a bell. He reached out and popped the lid; giving a flat rumble of understanding as he spotted the familiar gold filagree- only visible with the cap off- and a familiar rose shade. Rarely red. Never ‘nude’… well. Sort of.  
  
“ _This_ is as much as I got of her. What a fat lot to celebrate.” Melon exhaled in a huff and picked her drink back up to take an uncharacteristic swig. Zenigata raised an eyebrow as he set the lipstick back down, tapping two fingers on the wood surface in her direction.  
  
“What, does your generation consider a few _million_ euros worth of jewelry chicken scratch? Hah! Too bad I wasn’t there, I heard it was a hell of a show.…but lucky I didn’t.You don’t need this old man getting in your way.” he laughed- a genuine, guffaw, lacking any trace of bitterness or sarcasm. So long as they weren’t both on the same case, he had no problem poking fun at himself. She wasn’t the type to spread gossip anyways.  
  
Zenigata nudged Melon in the side, which did almost nothing to rouse her from where her head lay on the bar top, cushioned only by her arms. it did nothing but lean her slightly to the side, and produce a muffled annoyed sound.  
  
“…I know it might not feel like it right now. But don’t go thinking anyone else could even have put a _hitch_ in Ms. Mine’s stride. I can count on one hand the time’s I’ve seen anyone get the best of her… _especially_ that idiot.” his warm, comforting tone gained a faint growl on the last two words- Melon couldn’t help but snicker into her arms at it, shoulders shaking.  
  
“Didn’t you get _written up_ after the last time someone ELSE called him that…?” she asked, raising her head up so she could speak clearly.  
  
“I have NO idea what you mean, _détective_. My hand slipped! I’m a passionate man. And it’s not MY fault if the directors desk was a little flimsy. You’d think a man in charge of a police force would have stronger nerves, anyways.” he smiled as muffled snickering filled the air again, waiting for her head to peek up once more to give a conspiratorial wink, which seemed to cause another decent delay before she could sit up straight again.  
  
They drank in silence together for a moment; the rain outside filtered through the building’s walls, mingling with the distant chatter of the bars other patrons, intertwining with the strains of some unseen record player. An actual record- it was that kind of bar, because Zenigata was that kind of man. They sat that way long enough for the song to end, hissing and crackling faintly before slow snare drum and melancholy notes of piano began.

“…How do you get used to it?” she asked quietly, staring into her increasingly empty drink. Zenigata glanced at her, and began to idly rummaging in his pockets for something.   
  
“What, coming back without an arrest? I’d be pretty disappointed with the world if YOU had to get used to that.” Zenigata found what he’s been looking for, setting a five yen coin on the counter on it’s edge. With a flick it spun like a top, traveling a neat little orbit of a few inches.

“That’s not what I mean. How do you get used to… how…” she trailed off, gesturing faintly in the air. Like she could wave the SHAPE of the words into existance. 

 

“You always say the same thing- you think he’s a _good man_ , right?” she managed, hands falling flat on the bar-top.   
  
“He _is_ a good man.” His voice didn’t have the anger in it- just a casual correction. His hand moved smoothly as he spoke, neatly snatching up the coin before it could wobble out of it’s spin, juggling it between his fingers a moment. He flicked it into the air with a satisfying metallic _ting._  
  
“So you say.” Detectives didn’t pout, but there was a distinct sulk in her voice- she was _never_ convinced. Zenigata caught the coin and sent it back up into the air, sending it on a gentle arc.

“But you’re doing to spend the rest of your _life_ chasing him.” she finished.  
  
“Until I _catch_ him.” he corrected, waving his finger admonishingly at her in the gap between the coin was in the air and he needed to catch it, his other hand occupied by bringing his whiskey up for a swig.

 

“ _Thats not what I mean_.He ISN’T just a good man. He’s _your_ man!” Melon snapped, slamming her open hands on the bar hard enough that he had to grab their drinks in mid-air- the coin hitting the bar-top with a clatter. 

 

Zenigata turned slowly to look at Melon, eyes widening, before he frowned, everything suddenly _clicking_ neatly in his head.  
  
Melon’s hand snapped out, and snatched the tube of lipstick, clicking its cap back on, and tucking it back in her pocket forcefully

  
“…Oh, _no_. Melon…” he started, before she held a hand up, chugging the last few inches of her drink and pushing the glass aside. She then slumped forward again, burying herself under her coat and hat. Zenigata in turn twisted once her eyes were covered, turning to the bar at large with a furious glare, ensuring ANY heads their way QUICKLY went back to their drinks. 

 

A huge, warm hand settled on her shoulder, patting gently as he signaled the bartender for another of the same drinks for both of them.

 

“When did you know?” she asked quietly- if there was a tightness to her voice Zenigata wasn’t about to act like he noticed. You had to have honor for your fellow police officers, after all.

 

“Heh. Just like everything… it was inevitable, but I’m not as fast as you.” he chuckled, but it was a little hollow this time. The last drop of his whiskey was downed in an instant, the glass slammed down with a little more force then he (probably) meant. He exhaled the fire from it slowly, as if he needed to steady his hands for a single shot. And inhale…   
  
“Only when he was suddenly gone. When they _all_ suddenly were gone.” he clearly meant to sound calm. But he was a passionate man; and the words were terse at best.

 

“…the Five Year Gap.” she said, sitting up slightly.   
  
“Take those capitals off, for all I know he was surfing in god damned Miami.” he growled. Just then, the bartender brought them their drinks, setting them both down, and wordlessly, the bottle Zenigata had reserved at the bar months before after a payday. Zenigata looked up and smiled, quietly grateful even as he waved him off.

 

Melon didn’t speak again until the bartender was reasonably out of earshot, but the microscopic-lens act shed been doing on his face spoke volumes. He’d always disliked books-on-tape…

 

“I don’t understand. It’s not like you did _nothing_. You were-“ she started to say, but it was his turn to hold up his hand a moment.   
  
“Doing my best work. Probably of my whole career.” he finished for her, picking up his glass to stare through the amber liquor into space. There was a long, quiet pause; if he had listened had enough, Zenigata could probably have heard gears tick.

 

“You _missed_ him. You missed _them_.” she said, not asking a question in the slightest. Zenigata closed his eyes and, so slightly you could have missed it, nodded before draining his glass in one go, barely noticing the peat and smoke of the liquor. But if he was going to talk about THIS he needed it. 

 

“It was the most dull, frustrating, miserable five years of my _life_. A JAIL cell would have been better, Mellon. Dozens and dozens of crooks- thieves, murderers, confidence tricksters, assassins! And each and every _useless_ one of them wasn’t worth one of Jigen’s _bullet casings_. Nothing but greed, cruelty, and tragedy, the whole lot.” he gestured in a short sweeping motion, staring into the distance. Then the energy seemed to drain out of him as he remembered what came next. Which was his cue to pour himself another glass. 

 

“So… I’d re-read the old case files when I had spare time- fact checking, I told myself. What’s the phrase….? Curving your D’s and crossing your Q’s?” he asked, snapping his fingers vaguely.

 

“…cloose enough.” she said as innocently as she could manage, ignoring a suspicious glare. He THOUGHT the bartender might have coughed… but he was too distracted to do more then sneak a glance over

 

“ _Anyways._ There came a day when I realized I had finished every single one. Their files were complete… every detail in place. I’d figured out things they might not even have known about each other… and I was chasing ghosts.” he inhaled, reaching up to take off his hat and set it, quietly, aside.  
  
“…I’m no genius like you… or them. But If there’s anything on this earth I am good at, it’s putting clues together- wether I want to or not.” his voice was… off. Not in a way like he was lying; it was almost the other direction. Soft, low, and strained. He looked up at the ceiling, swirling his glass- smiling, without a single hint of joy in it.

 

“That day… I cursed ever having met Lupin the Third, because if I had never met him, I never would have had to feel that way.”

 

They sat together in silence again. This time Melon was who reached out;picking up the five yen coin and tucking it into Zenigata’s hand without a word. Soon the melancholy silence was punctuated by the sound of him flipping the coin to the slow beat of the music, relaxing quietly. 

 

“But he came back.” Melon said, finally breaking her silence. She took her glasses off to briefly wipe her eyes and clean the thick lenses, making sidelong eye contact with him. Or she was pretty sure she had, the glasses weren’t for show.

 

“Yep.” his melancholy seemed to lift, giving a wide grin as he rubbed under his nose, seeming to surface back out of whatever memories he’d been lost to.

 

“Popped up in a new jacket like nothing had ever happened, wilder then ever with some nut on a boat- ah, I don’t have to tell YOU that. You probably remember the case bettern’ me!” he flashed a goofy grin at her… and if it was anyone else, she’d have assumed it was fake. But… she’d seen this before. A flash from melancholy back to jovial, or spiritedly angry could happen in a second.   
  
All you had to do was bring up one name

 

“…and you were happy then?” this time she WAS asking question, with something hiding behind the words. Not a fragile thing, because she wasn’t a fragile person… more like a piano wire strung tight enough to snap if something tried to get a note out of it. Or kill someone. It’d depend on the mood. 

 

“I was.” he confirmed, simply. Maybe a lot of memories with Lupin were a little bitter sweet. But he still remembered how it had felt, when he’d started to see the pieces come together. Informants and little information traps that had gone cold years before suddenly had all lit back up… 

It still made him feel that fire light up. 

 

She didn’t say anything, but unspoken words- questions- hung in the air, vibrating on that tensed wire. Probably not wise to leave her like that too long, but he still took his time to think, choosing his words with care. 

 

“We’re relics- or I am anyways. Maybe I’ll spin around in the chase the rest of our lives. But… the world still changes around us, and the chase does too. Bit by bit. But you, you don’t _need_ to wait for anything to change. You’re not stuck like me yet, Melon… and neither is she.” He gave her a grin, and then scratched his chin, seemed to reconsider what he’d said. 

 

“Well… she’s prettttyyyyyy much a free agent…. other then a noted weakness for overconfident skinny geniuses. Not that I know any of those.” she elbowed him- sharply- with a scowl, making him snicker softly into his drink. 

 

She grumbled and snatched his drink away from him, making him growl vaguely- trying to snatch it back to no avail.   
  
“I think you’ve had too much, Uncle.”

 

“I still mean what I say! An honorable policeman is _always_ of his word!” he thumped his chest, and took another ineffective swipe for his glass back. She pulled it away, the light seeming to glint off her glasses. 

 

“…well if you’re so _supportive_ , I’ll trade you it back for Ms. Mine’s file.” she drawled, bouncing the glass up in the air away from his hand. 

 

“You _have_ her file! Last I heart you practically blackmailed the Director to GET her case in the FIRST place!” he retorted in a hiss. 

 

“Interpol file. YOU keep your own files, and I bet it’s better.”

 

“It is. Make your own.” He grabbed her drink in retaliation with a laugh of triumph, childishly just holding it up too _high_ for her to get back without getting out of her seat.They glared at each other a moment, with an intensitythat should by all rights have summoned a tumbleweed. 

 

They set each others glasses down at the exactly same time, neatly exchanging hostages. 

 

“…you know, I bet Arséne would be verrrrryyyy interested in what you said about Fujikos taste… and what was it you said about ‘not being a genius, unlike THEM’….?” she drawled, resting her chin on her hand as she took a sip. 

 

“Hah! As if he’d BELIEVE you.” he growled, with arguably baffling smugness, before he had to grab his hat before she could. 

 

They wound up bickering a while longer, before eventually settling into talking shop. More like the usual. Leads, escapades. Some of Zenigata’s old stories. By the time they wound up parting ways the only people left were them, and the barkeeper. 

 

When Zenigata have his last little salute and walked off, Melon stayed a moment to watch him go. The rain had mostly let up, sprinkling little circles of damp onto his trench-coat, fog sweeping around him under the streetlights.

 

The click of a camera would be heard by no one but her this time. 

 

….after all, If she was going to follow her Uncles advice, it couldn’t hurt to have a few trump cards to hand. If anyone in the whole world still loved something as goofily cliche as a detective wandering off into the dark streets of Paris, after all, surely it was Lupin the Third. 

 

Zenigata felt lighter as he walked- he did enjoy her company, brat or not. But it’d been a long, long time since he’d had a talk like that with a friend. Side effect of having one of your last old friends _shoot_ you.  
  
Still he wasn’t dwelling on those kinds of memories. He kept his pace slow to savor the walk, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and slipping one between his lips, patting himself down for a light. It was made a little harder by a busted street lamp making it hard to see.  
  
He stopped his pace, frustratedly growling.  
  
“…well? If you’re going to pry into my _personal_ life the least you idiots could do is give me a light!” he snapped- and anybody watching would have _sworn_ it was to no one.  
  
_Flick_  
  
“Gee, pops… here I was hoping to surprise you…”  
  
Zenigata snorted faintly, illuminated by a sudden soft bloom of light as a lighter and match were presented to him. He leaned in, inhaling softly as the flame caught. Lupin and Jigen both leaned up against the broken lamp-post… and who knew if it’d even BEEN broken before they showed up. Eventually he’d had to just _delegate_  the property damage counts.  
  
“Told you.” Jigen muttered, waving his match out casually.  
  
“You make a terrible bartender, Lupin.” Zenigata retorted, stepping back into his stride- relishing the sound of lupins feet skidding on wet cobblestones. Jigen had already fallen into pace behind him, barely visible in the gloom.  
  
“Excuse ME?! I’ll have you know I make the BEST drinks in all of france!” lupin boasted, getting a few steps ahead of Zenigata, walking backwards. it reminded Zenigata of a police escort- a thought to make him rumble with a laugh.  
  
“Maybe the whole world. Nothing less for my two favorite noble lawmen.” he put his hands on his cheeks, exaggeratedly blinking his lashes at him.  
  
“Mmhm. You’re sure it didn’t have anything to do with getting a tube of lipstick back…?” Zenigata drawled, raising his eyebrow.  
  
“No!” the snap was forceful enough to actually sound genuine… even if the snickering behind him suggested it might have been brought up before.

 

He softened all the same. Foolishly but… why well, stop at this point in his life.   
  
They’d reached his hotel and he stopped his walk a moment before the front door of the building, fishing out his room key and pinching his cigarette out.  
  
“…well. In that case, I suppose I can’t just leave you out in the rain.” he said, stepping ahead of Lupin to push the door open. When he glanced back, he was met with a half- invisible smirk, and an arguably _blinding_ monkey-ish grin.  
  
“…Soooo…. ‘wished you hadn’t met’ me? I never knew, pops~”

 

“Mmm. Nope. Never mind. Catch a cold and die.” Zenigata growled, unable to help a smirk at the resulting disappointed whine.   
  
“Ah, not you Jigen. YOU can come in.”  
  
“Oh…? Well well… seeya tommorow, Lupin.”  
  
Zenigata laughed and slipped inside, even as he knew there’d definitely be no keeping Lupin out of his hair.

 

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. 

 

Thank goodness. 


End file.
